In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(4)

“Shut up, Petrie.” Sveti’s voice quivered. “You’re useless.”

“Call me Sam. And what’s this about death threats?”

“None of your goddamn business!”

Sam turned his gaze on Tam. “Death threats from whom?”

Tam rolled her eyes. “If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you. Otherwise, f*ck off.”

“Mama?”

They turned at the small voice. Rachel, Tam’s adopted daughter. She held Becca’s little girl Sofia by the hand. Rachel was tall, pretty, a mop of black curls. Starting to bud.

“Is Sveti okay?” Sofia piped up.

Sveti gave the girls a tremulous smile. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Sofia ran and flung her arms around Sveti’s waist. Sveti hugged the little girl back, fiercely.

“You’re sure?” Rachel looked unconvinced. “You were yelling. You never yell. Did that old man do something bad to you?”

“No, he didn’t. Everything’s fine, baby.” Tam clapped her hands. “Rachel, come with me to find Daddy. Sofia, you come, too. Becca, monitor the situation in the ballroom.” She fixed her piercing topaz gaze on Miles and Sam. “You two stay here with Sveti. Do not under any circumstances let her go back into the ballroom. She has enough problems without getting her name on Oleg Arbatov’s hit list.”

Tam clicked past them and seized the young girls by the hand. Becca followed, adding her own glare to reinforce Tam’s directive. The door clicked closed. The silence that followed was profound.

Miles’ glance darted from Sveti, who had hidden her face behind her hands again, to Sam. He gulped. “I, uh . . . need to go find Lara,” he said to Sam. “Can you handle this okay on your own?”

His heart gave a sharp, percussive thud, like a jackhammer. Oh, f*ck yeah, he could so handle this on his own. “I’m good,” he said.

“I do not need to be handled!” Sveti flared. Her mascara had run, smudging into a sexy, wild-girl raccoon mask.

Miles backed toward the door. “ ’Course you don’t. Good, then. So, later, dude.” Miles sidled out. “All yours.” The door clicked shut.

All yours. The fantasy head rush was swiftly quenched when she lunged for the door. He blocked her path. “No way.”

Her golden eyes widened, shocked. “You don’t think you’re keeping me in here, do you? You’re not serious!”

“You heard Tam,” Sam replied. “You leave this room, and she comes after my balls with the bolt cutters.”

Sveti’s chest heaved, which highlighted her excellent nipple hard-on. “What Tam might do to you is nothing compared to what I will do to you if you try to stop me from walking out that door.”

Sam reached and flicked the knob lock. “I’ll take my chances.”

She crossed her arms over the nipple jut. “Wrong answer.”

“Yeah? What are you going to do to me? You got a pair of bolt cutters under your skirt, too?”

She snorted. “Most guys seem to think so.”

He admired the hot flush staining her cheekbones. “I don’t.”

“Good for you. Congratulations. You’re very brave. Now get out of my way. I can’t stand being confined. Not after what happened to me.”

He waved that away. “Don’t play the captive-waif-in-the-dungeon pity card with me. It’s old and tired. Move on.”

Her jaw sagged in utter shock. “You *!”

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed. “I have nothing to lose. You already think I’m a dickhead. Why not say whatever I damn well please?”

Curling wisps of hair swayed around her chin as she shook her head. “I have bigger problems than your unrequited crush, Petrie!”

“Burrrrrnnn,” he murmured. “Tell me about those big problems, since we’re shut in here together. You can start with the death threats.”

Her eyes slid away. “I do not want to discuss that.”

“Too bad. I say we do.”

A tense silence followed that statement. She flicked him a wary glance from under those long lashes. “You can’t bully me,” she said.

“You think not?” he said. “Let’s see about that. Spit it out. Who, what, where, and when. Was it that sweatshop bust, six months ago? Those piece-of-shit snakeheads Helen Wong and Him Goh?”

Her eyes went wide and startled. “How do you know about them?”

“I watch the news, Sveti,” he said patiently. “I’m a cop. I have friends. I hear things. Plus, you live-streamed, blogged, and tweeted the whole thing to a hundred and twenty thousand followers.”

“And you are one of them now? Spying on me?”

He plowed right on past that one, there being no point. “Sneaking into that place with a live video camera on you was suicidal. You should have just passed the tip on to the police and let them deal with it.”

Her chin tilted up. “There were thirty-four trafficked Chinese nationals locked in there, slaving eighteen hours a day! I saw my chance and took it! People have to see for themselves. It’s the only thing that makes it real for them. That’s what pulls in the donations!”

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead,” he pointed out. “But never mind that now. Just tell me about the death threats.”